Buck Moon
by stephaniedeedee
Summary: You would think that being born into the word of vampires would save you from any surprises the world has to offer. Elizabeth will find, the world has more than just a few in store for her. Here is the life, and legacy, of Elizabeth Alexandria Volturi (née) Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

**A note, before you read:**

The first two chapters are of Elizabeth as an infant. Short chapters. The story will pick up immediately after that, so don't worry. Then it's a little bit within her childhood, so I can make my "Elizabeth version" of Breaking Dawn part 2. NOT A RE-CAP, but a re-write and re-construction.  
Do not worry, I would never subject you to a childhood section of a length on par with Jane Eyre. After the Volturi (in Breaking Dawn), we'll quickly transition into Elizabeth's 'late teen' years.

So without further-a-do, Buck Moon everyone;

 **. . .**

They say that as time passes, our memories fade further and further away. Our earliest thoughts stop being from our earliest years, and our youth meshes together in a chaotic soup of time. Of course, they, being humans. I am not human. I remember everything.

I remember my first conscious thought. It wasn't in wonder of where I was, nor curious about the creature beside me. I was wondering about the one around me. Why was mommy sad? I thought. I didn't even need to discover it was my mother who I was within. It is something I believe, human or not, that we all know from the beginning.

I remember the first time I felt warmth. It was the little hand within mine. I couldn't see, but I knew, it was from the creature beside me. And thus, I, for the first time, met Renesmee. Through our little hands, whose bones had barely formed, she shared with me all of her firsts. Her firsts thoughts, her firsts feelings of warmth, and the first time she heard her name. At that moment was the first time I felt love, and loved in return.

I remember the first time I saw the light of the world. It was glaring and sharp. Artificial. I turned from it and cried. Warm hands held me tight, hiding me from the sight as if they knew what had bothered me. There was confusion all around me. They had expected Renesmee, but not me. I was not planned, but not unwelcome.

I remember the first person my eyes landed on. I had no real knowledge of the world then, so my first thoughts weren't of his features, the colors, or their beauty. All I knew was feeling, and I felt safe when I saw him. I felt comfort. I felt love. He whispered soft words to me, and touched my face with his long fingers. I wrapped my little hand around one of them in wonder. That was the first time I heard my father laugh. That laughter was short lived as suddenly I was in another's arms, my sister with me.

I remember the first time I saw my mother, which was also Renesmee's first as she showed me through our hands. I felt unconditional love. We were taken from the room before I could turn and see her for myself. It was a week before I would.

I remember being held by my mother for the first time. When she gave birth to Renesmee and I, she was dying. There was only enough time of her to hold Renesmee before our father needed to change her. When she held me she cried, but unlike when she held Renesmee, there were no tears.

"Elizabeth, after your mother," she'd said to father.

"Elizabeth Cullen," he had said, holding Renesmee. She smiled toothlessly at me, and I smiled back. Mother cried harder. Venom leaked from her eyes when Renesmee showed her thoughts through her hands. I held Renesmee's other hand in mine, and we all watched the first time she saw our mother. That is when I spoke for the first time.

"Pretty, mommy," I said with the image still in my mind. Mother gasped, took us all into her arms, and hugged us as she laughed with joy.


	2. Chapter 2

The first months of my life were filled with endless love. Auntie Rose doted on Renesmee and I to a suffocating amount. Uncle Emmet would try to tell her to ease back, but I would reach for her with squeals of joy. It made Auntie Rose happy to coddle us.

Auntie Alice loved putting me in all sorts of outfits. Renesmee, like mommy, didn't like dresses, which were Auntie Alice's favorite. I told her she could give me a thousand dresses. Auntie Alice said she'll give me more. I like dresses.

Uncle Jasper was quiet. He liked to watch and listen. Renesmee and I found him in the library one day. We watched him read, and eventually he started to read out loud. Uncle Jasper read us history books and historical accounts. Sometimes he told us his own stories. We sat and listened.

Uncle Carlisle taught us about feeding when we started moving on our own. No more blood bags. We tried animals, and Renesmee took to it well. I couldn't hold it down. Auntie Esme cooked for us after. Renesmee ran to the bathroom post haste. I licked the plate and asked for seconds.

Jacob liked to play with us. He let Renesmee and I ride on his back as a wolf and carry us across the forest. Father wasn't happy when we got back the first time. Our laughter eased the scowl on his face. The next time, we didn't go as far.

Mother, when she wasn't being taught how to handle her 'newborn' ways, was always with us. She loved to read to us. Unlike Uncle Jasper, mother preferred fiction. So did we. Every night she read to us. Sometimes all day. Renesmee loved listening to Jane Austin and Shakespeare. I loved J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Louis.

Father loved listening to Renesmee share her thoughts through her hands, and loved me telling mine. He couldn't 'hear' me, like he couldn't 'hear' mother. When he wasn't listening to us, we listened to him play the piano. Father loved music, almost as much as he loved teaching us about it. Renesmee took to playing quickly. She played differently than father. Softer, sweeter, just like how her thoughts felt in my head. I would hum when she played, which is when Father started teaching me how to sing. Mother and Esme cry whenever Renesmee or I perform.

My sister and I grew, which scared our family. Human children didn't grow so fast.

"They aren't human," Carlisle said.

As the days passed, Mother held us more often and harder. Renesmee tried easing her with her thoughts, but it only worked until two days later our clothing didn't fit again. Even Alice's smile became strained with each new outfit she provided. Renesmee and I would hide in our room at the cottage when the stifling worry of our family became to much. She'd silently share her thoughts, and I'd whisper mine until Mother or Father knocked on the door. They wouldn't ask us anything, just stay and listen to our innocent conversations. We were their sanctuary as much as they were ours.

With a crash, those first few months ended. We all stared at Alice and the broken flower pot at her feet.

"The Volturi, they're coming."


	3. Chapter 3

I stared at the oil painting in Carlisle's office. The three kings stood over a balcony, watching the many below within the canvas. If the subjects hadn't of been vampires, the piece probably would be in the Louvre.

I _bet they're stiller in life than in the painting_ , Renesmee thought. I squeezed her hand back in amusement.

It'd been weeks since Alice's vision in the living room, and days since her and Jasper's disappearance. Mother, Father, Jacob, Renesmee and I were the only ones still in Forks. Besides the wolves, everyone else was out finding vampires. Witnesses, Father called them. An issue, Jacob always replied.

"I hope they aren't as scary," I said. Renesmee squeezed my hand back in agreement. Even in oil, the red eyes of the three vampire lords were formidable. Caius, his hair white as snow, looked menacing as he glared out below him. There was malice in those painted eyes, the ruthless violence only Jasper's darkest stories could describe.

At the center, proud and tall, was Aro. His hair of dark silk shaped his pale face, whose gaze wasn't nearly as volatile, but a thousand times more dangerous. This was a master manipulator, who was thousands of years old. The one who, if we were so lucky, would pry into our minds. Renesmee's only, if Father's predictions came true.

The last brother, though, didn't look out upon the crowd. He stared off into the distance, face half hidden behind dark wavy locks. Each time I looked upon his visage, I felt myself slowly slip into sorrow. Though his face was perfectly blank, appearing cold to those around him, the eyes were what gave him away. Marcus Volturi was sad.

A warm brush to my cheek pulled me out of the painting. Renesmee's hand was brushing away wetness. She stared into my eyes, her worry tingling under her fingers. Before the beginning of a question could form in her mind, a voice called us to the living room. Renesmee flitted out first. With a glance back into dark soulful eyes, I followed suite.

The Denalis had arrived.

Mother held us to her as Jacob stood guard while Father greeted our guests. There were four members. I was listening to them talking when Renesmee's hand grasped mine.

 _They won't like us_. Mother looked down quickly, having heard her as she held my sister's other hand.

"They don't understand you," Mother corrected. Even if they did, would they like us? Would they help? I didn't ask my questions aloud. Renesmee's hand remained in mine. Mother's words had calmed her, though her fear still tickled the back of my mind. Mother's hands held us closer.

"Bella," Father's voice called from the other room, "bring the girls."

Jacob rounded the corner first, his eyes glaring down at four different points in the foyer. Slowly, hesitantly, Mother pushed us forward, though never falling behind. We barely stepped into the room when a woman with strawberry curls hissed and braced herself to the wall. A man with dark hair crouched before the brunette and the blonde woman. Mother started to pull us back, but stopped when Father held up his hand.

"What have you done!?" hissed the blond.

"You promised to listen," Father calmly reminded.

"Some things can not be heard!" the woman braced against the wall exclaimed, "you have doomed yourselves!"

The blond flitted to the door. "We need to leave," she said, hand on the knob.

"Wait!" Mother exclaimed, hands gripping our shoulders, "listen to their hearts! They are not immortal children!" All in the room froze. All the Denalis were posed to leave, Jacob crouched beside us, and Father blocking the front door. In the silence, Renesmee's heart and mine flooded the room, drowning out the low boom of Jacob's blood stream.

"How?" the man asked. Father and Mother went on to explain to the Denalis about how we were born, not turned. One by one they approached Renesmee. She touched their cheeks and shared her memories, her thoughts. Each retreated with the fear lifted from their gaze. Once the fear of our guests fleeing passed, Father stepped away from the door and in a moment I was in his arms at his hip. Renesmee squealed delightfully beside me as she was picked up by Mother.

"How incredible," whispered the strawberry blond, images still flashing behind her eyes as Renesmee's hand was unintentionally jerked away by Mother's movements.

"And what is your name, little one?" asked a deep voice. Before Father and I stood the only male of the Denali coven. My eyes met the intense golden gaze of the brunette. Behind him, the rest turned to look. I hid my face into Father's shoulder, unprepared for the attention of these strangers. Father chuckled, the rumble soothing against me ear.

"Dearest, this is Eleazar," Father explained. Eleazar, with a smirk, bowed his head in greeting. "There," Father pointed to a figure behind Eleazar, "is Carmen," he then pointed to the figure by the door, "Kate," the blond smiled kindly, "and Tanya," Father pointed to the strawberry blond who stood before Mother and Renesmee.

"Hello," I greeted shyly, "I'm Elizabeth."

"It's an honor to meet you, Elizabeth," Eleazar said, his smile warm and eye sparkling, "you and your sister are very special." Father gasped above me, his eyes locked on the vampire before us.

"Edward?" Mother called.

" _Misterioso_ ," said Eleazar, a ghost of a smile on his face, his eyes glazed over, " _hay más a lo que puedo ver_."

"Elizabeth isn't just a shield," Father said, eyes locked on Eleazar still. Carmen appeared around Eleazar's shoulder. Eleazar slowly returned from wherever his mind had gone to look down at her.

"A shield?" echoed Mother.

"Like you," Eleazar said to her, "able to block any mental gifts of our kind, maybe even physical ones," a gleam appeared in his eye as he glanced at Kate. A sharp growl rolled deep in Father's chest, startling me. Eleazar turned back to Father, body tensed. "Just an idea."

"A dangerous one," Father's tone was threatening. I gripped Father's shoulder and his eyes fell to mine. The rumbling ceased immediately. "Forgive me, dearest," he said, pressed his lips to my hair and took a deep breath, "I am calm."

"You said Lizzy isn't just a shield," Jacob's stilted voice filled the room for the first time, returning all to the subject at hand. He was besides Mother and Renesmee now, one of her little hand in one of his big ones. The concern in her eyes echoed Jacob's tone. Or was is the other way around?

"Yes," Eleazar answered, his eyes returning to me.

"So," Jacob continued when it became apparent Eleazar would not, "what else can she do?"

"He doesn't know," Father answered. The three Denali woman appeared shocked.

"Is it true?" Carmen was the first to ask. Eleazar looked down towards his wife.

"I'm unsure," he said, "there is something more, something brewing under the surface, but I do not understand it," he looked to me again, "it seems, after three centuries, I've come across a gift that is beyond the understanding of my own."

"Is she in danger?" Mother asked.

"Not any more than any other gifted," Father said, his voice soft and soothing, but the tenseness in his shoulders didn't match. I gripped his shoulder and his eyes met mine. Concern swirled in their amber depths.

"Our gifts are a part of us," Eleazar said, something in his voice pulled me to look at him, "do not worry, Elizabeth," he said, "though I do not see clearly what your gift is, I do see that there is no harm coming to you." Though his words eased my fears, the tenseness of Father's shoulders stayed.

"But," Eleazar said, eyes leaving mine, "there is something we have yet to discuss, Cullens. We have met your twins. Now, why are we here?"


	4. Chapter 4

Within a week, our home had become filled to the brim with 'witnesses'. Nomads and clans appeared from all over the world to meet Renesmee and I. Our little private world was no longer, and my sister and I's only respite was in sleep. Though many of our guests were lovely, a few even fast friends, the impending confrontation was looming over everyone. The fear was palpable, and it was suffocating. It was in our dreams, surrounded by fluffy sheets and soft lights, that we could start to breath again. The layers of vampire emotions slipped away, and the dark waves of dreams pulled us under.

 _How does Uncle Jasper do it?_ Renesmee asked me once. The immediate sadness that came with that question stopped me from answering, and her from asking again. Though the rest had returned, once their hunts for witnesses were over, the empty hole in our family was a festering wound, that didn't even have a chance to stop bleeding. It was all happening so fast, and yet we all were grieving for a future that hadn't even happened yet. And even so, once again, more surprises arrived. Two of them.

Renesmee and I were out with mother, watching her and the others train. The wolves were there that day, showing the vampires how they moved. It was Jacob's idea. If a fight did happen, then everyone should know how to rely on each other during battle. Lydia and Jacob were discussing formation when they came.

"Bella, bring the girls please," Father called. With Renesmee's hand in her left, and mine in her right, Mother flitted with us to the house. Just a few steps into the foyer stood two strange figures.

"Well, well, Carlisle. You have been naughty, haven't you?" said the taller, darker vampire of the pair. His companion smirked. His hair was bright, even whiter than his skin, which was paler than any other vampire I'd seen, portrait or not. His scarlet eyes shifted over Renesmee, and flickered to me. I became perfectly still. Our gazes met, and the world faded away.

It was dark at first. Reminiscent of me falling asleep. It was like I'd shut my eyes, waiting for the first hint of a dream. There was no sweet decent in this, but a solid plunge. Flashes of white flickered across my vision. Short silver locks, and black iridescent curls, blowing in the wind as the landscape behind flickered past in a mirage of earthy colors.

A flash of orange. A sunset, upon a land of vibrant greens. Tall buildings cut into the sun, unable to truly see against the light.

A large figure appeared and the light softened to the early dew of morning bright. A soft smile of gentile lips, crinkling paper skin below unseen eyes, and large satin hands around mine.

A ring on the middle finger of an unknown right hand, with an unrecognizable crest. It's jewel changed from red to royal blue.

A dark figure, in rage, as it tears apart a pale figure in the sharp light of torches. Dead eyes staring into mine before being consumed by fire.

A crowd of faces, watching and waiting. Family.

The sight cut away and I stared at a strangers familiar white locks. Scarlet eyes no longer looked into mine. The strangers were speaking to Carlisle. They were staying, and the others didn't appear happy about it. I couldn't say I felt the same.

They joined the next time the wolves came to train. Renesmee sat upon Jacob's back, soft fur tickling between her fingers. His large eyes shifted across the glade, silently giving orders to his pack while Father took and shared what he thought would help our vampire friends.

Mother was crouched at the center, surrounded by two wolves. Sam and Leah. I watched from the side, perched upon a mossy rock, observing and quiet. Ever since the strange 'vision' had happened, I'd become subdued. I didn't know what to make of it, let alone if there was anything to understand.

Everyone was so high strung, ill at ease, I didn't want to add anything to their minds. There'd been no repeat of the event since, so I tried not to put too much thought into it, but it seemed out of my control. Each time I saw their faces, the images would lift from the back of my mind. A constant slide show behind my eyes.

At first, I actively avoided the two remaining members of the Romanian coven. Wherever they were, I wasn't. As soon as white hair or dark locks appeared, I flitted away. Renesmee, of course, was the first to notice. We were once glued to the hip, and now there was an emptiness at our sides. Her thoughts concerned Father, who started noticing my leaving. Soon, there'd be questions.

So, I stopped running, but I was quiet. Renesmee was curious, but didn't pester me since I'd returned to her side. But, now, instead of fear, I was curious. With the constant reminder of my strange vision around me once again, I wanted to know more. That's why, that afternoon, I found myself sitting near the two Romanians, who chose to observe instead of participate.

"Caius will not react well to these creatures," said the deep voice of Stefan to his companion, Vladimir. Vladimir hmm'd in agreement. Their eyes watched the pack intensely. Studying.

"Look how naturally they move in their bodies. Did this alpha inform us that some changed not but a few days ago?" Vladimir turned to his brother, the question intimately quiet. So quiet, in fact, that others outside ten feet of them could not hear. Besides me, the closest was Carlisle, who stood a good twenty away. No one payed them any mind.

"It would seem that these _vârcolaci_ are tied to our kind, sensing us before truly knowing we are here, if what Carlisle says is true," Stefan said. Jacob had shared his worries with Renesmee, and so to me, about the shifting members of the tribe. Never before had the Quileute's seen their people turn so young: Collin and Brady being only thirteen years old. Renesmee tried comforting Jacob, but we could not truly sympathize, for we had no true understanding of what being 'young' truly was, at least by human standards.

"The ways of these _vârcolaci_ seem primarily instinctual, _fratele meu_ ," said Vladimir, turning to his companion. From behind Stefan's shoulder, the blond caught my eyes with his. For some reason, I did not look away. For some reason, he did not look away either.

"I would like to know more about these Quileutes. There is much here to be learned," Stefan mused. Stefan did not turn at all after this, even though his brother continued to study me right beside him. After a while I became emboldened.

"What you said earlier," I said in a voice not as quietly, but not risen in a way to alarm, "about Caius. You said that he won't react well to the pack, why?" One of Vladimir's pristine silver brows arched. Stefan turned around slowly to look upon me. I swallowed, a nervous habit I'd learned from Mother. She told me it was an old human thing she would do, one that hadn't left with her transition.

Vladimir smirked at me.

"Caius, you see _suflețel_ , is not very fond of _vârcolaci_ ," said Stefan.

"Werewolves," Vladimir explained when he saw the confused look on my face. The translation sounded stuffy in his mouth. Probably as stilted as _vârcolaci_ would sound in mine.

"The Quileutes are not werewolves, though," I corrected and paused, "but you are saying that werewolves do indeed exists."

"Da. That these people are shifters, matters not to Caius, _suflețel_ ," Stefan said, "they appear in a wolfish form. Something the Volturi only know the _Copii ale lunii_ to do."

"The Children of the Moon," Vladimir dramatically translated, his accent thick on the words.

"Garish beasts of the night. Half man and half wolf. They turn under the full moon, and for the entire night destroy anything in sight," Stefan said.

" _Vârcolaci_ ," said Vladimir. At this the two brother turned towards the grove again, officially ending the conversation. Fighters and observers had switched positions. Jacob now was at the center, and Renesmee in Mothers arms off to the side. They both watched intently as another round started.

"Now, Peter, notice the way the wolves will corner you between them," Father said, his voice oddly clear. I turned towards him and nearly jumped when I found his eyes locked on me. No, not me. Father was staring at the Romanians. His eyes glanced between us several time.

When neither Vladimir nor Stefan showed any interest in talking again, Father's eyes turned away. Every now and then he would look, but after some time the two vampires joined in on one of the rounds. They said nothing as Father, and Jacob, instructed them where to move and when.

The mood of the clearing had shifted. Hardly anyone asked questions, nor volunteered information or suggestions. All eyes were staring at Vladimir and Stefan, gazes cold and hard. No one trusted them. My eyes looked over Carlisle, who's face was taunt. Why let them stay then?

Stefan and Vladimir left the clearing when the staged battle was over. All watched as they retreated back to the house. Not a word was spoken as two members from the Scottish clan took their places at the center of the field. Training continued.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the two nights later I sought them out for the first time. Renesmee lay beside me on Mother's bed, hand curled in mine. Soft visions of warm fur curled in small fists filled my mind. Awhile ago we'd stopped sleeping in our room at the cottage. It was easier for the others to look after us if we were at the house, then having others split up and sit out the night so far away.

As softly as I could, I removed my hand from my sisters. Her dreams slipped away, and I sighed in relief. Though Jacob was a welcome comfort between all the worry and the stress, Renesmee held a different affinity for the pack's alpha than I. The true comfort Renesmee felt in Jacob's presence felt artificial in my chest when she shared those moments. It was uncomfortable. Like wearing socks that were too big.

I silently flitted out of the room, opening and closing the door before Renesmee could feel the hall light on her face. As I searched for Vladimir and Stefan, I recalled the talk I'd had with Carlisle two nights ago.

 _"Elizabeth?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Is there something you wish to talk about?" I didn't turn from the painting, and almost asked my question before hesitating for the seventh time. I heard a book close behind me._

 _"You've been standing there for ten minutes sighing over and over again," Carlisle said. I lowered my head and sighed again. The book was set down and a chair moved back._

 _"Elizabeth, I can assure you, whatever it is, you may talk to me," he said. A hand landed on my shoulder. With a glance at sad red eyes, I gathered the courage to speak._

 _"Why does everyone hate Vladimir and Stefan?" not even before I finished, Carlisle's hand stiffened. A few moments of silence passed. I was quickly regretting ever asking, and started to move towards the door. "Forget I asked, I apologize."_

 _"No, no, Elizabeth," Carlisle said and I paused, "I apologize. I was not prepared for that question. Please," he gestured to one of the chairs across from his desk. I glanced up, seeing his tired honey eyes, honest and open, and took a seat. I waited, my toes just barely skimming the ground. As Carlisle sat down he glanced down at my feet and smirked._

 _"It was only months ago that your legs barely fit across the cushion of that chair," he whispered._

 _"I believe that was Renesmee," I said flatly. Carlisle's eyes grew wide. Two seconds in I couldn't hold it any longer. A clear bright laugh shot out of me. Carlisle joined in shortly, as well as a few from downstairs. Emmet's loud chortle resonated from outside._

 _"Ah, yes, I should have known," Carlisle said, bowing his head. We let ourselves laugh a little longer. The quiet settled again, but I waited patiently as Carlisle gathered his words._

 _"What the Volturi have done to Vladimir and Stefan…" Carlisle started, eyes gazing off to the side, "their anger is not without great cause. But sometimes, anger blinds," he faded off._

 _"What did the Volturi do?" I asked. Carlisle glanced at me, eyes pensive, before gazing off towards something only he could see._

 _"The Romanians are far older that the Volturi. How much older, I do not know. They ruled first, for a long time, in Romania. When Aro and his brothers started seeking power, back then, there was only one obstacle in their way," his eyes landed on something behind my head. "Aro was the first to see gifts as something that could be used as an advantage, not just individually, but as a collective. The Romanians weren't prepared, having relied on what vampire kind knew of at the time; brute strength and strategy." Burning buildings, bodies, flashed across my eyes. They were vivid. Too vivid._

 _"They were slaughtered," I gasped._

 _"Yes," Carlisle spoke, voice solemn. "I don't know how many the Romanian's had amongst them, but there were more than the numbers Aro rules now. Family, friends, mates, all destroyed. They warred against the Romanians for three hundred years, destroying a whole generation of vampire kind. Caius enjoyed retelling the events of their rise to glory."_

 _"Three hundred years," I echoed. Carlisle looked at me now and smiled as well as he could with sorrow in his eyes._

 _"A horrible fate, for anyone," he paused for a second, seriousness developing in his tone,"I will not tell you to not have empathy, but know Elizabeth, that the Romanians weren't without their own sins." I breathed into my nose sharply, anger flooding my system. I waited. Carlisle noticed my darkened eyes, the flicker of his gaze not as subtle as he wished._

 _"They were ruthless and violent, openly," he continued, "They did not hesitate in their actions. Tyrannical in their rule, they slaughtered hundreds on their own. Back then, vampires and humans alike were awaiting a savior to save them all. The Volturi were the embodiment of their salvation."_

 _"Then why let them stay here, if they are as bad as you say?" I asked. The anger I felt was heady, but so was my confusion. To many feelings were around me. "Will they harm us?" A soft touch to my chin slowly lifted my head. Carlisle kneeled before me._

 _"That is a good questions, Elizabeth, for which there is an answer. Sadly, I can not give it to you. But, I can tell you," he said, taking my hands in his, "that time can change you, if you let it. Though I hold no love for those two, that does not mean I can not see their value to our cause. Your Father hears no malice in their thoughts, no threat in their minds. That is why we let them stay, why your Father does not drive them away," he was petting my hair now, running his fingers through my curls. I started to yawn._

 _"Come," he said, lifting me into his arms, "let us get you to bed. It's been a long day." Carlisle brought me to Mother's room where Renesmee was already waiting, dressed in a white nightgown. I changed quickly into my matching one before Carlisle tucked us in. He kissed Renesmee's forehead before flitting over to my side and kissing mine._

 _"Remember this, Elizabeth, Renesmee," he whispered so quietly that none but us could hear, "nothing is purely good, or entirely evil."_

I found them in the backyard, amongst Esme's flowers and Alice's landscaping. _Alice_. The burn in my heart faded as I turned my thoughts elsewhere. They seemed strange, surrounded by stalks of goldenrod and ornate stone pots of orange chrysanthemum. Stefan's right hand was cupping the head of one of the bright flowers, its color glowing on his chin. Vladimir sat on one of the beautiful stone benches that lined the path. They were talking to each other.

"-find that floral and fauna help heal the soul," I caught the tale end of whatever Stefan was saying.

"Bah," Vladimir scoffed. Stefan payed him no mind as he began inspecting petals. Neither of them looked at me as I slowly walked up the path. So subdued from Carlisle's descriptions, it was hard to imagine these two as tyrannical kings. They appeared domestic surrounded by the tamed nature of our garden.

"A bit late to be up isn't it," Vladimir slowly turned his head towards me, " _suflețel_?" The calculated motion should have been spine tingling, cast in black and white under a full moon, but by this ancient being it was almost romantic. Poetry in movement.

"I could not sleep," I said. Vladimir smirked and gestured to the open bench beside him. I complied.

"Sleep," Stefan mused, "that is something I would miss, if I could even remember it." Vladimir laughed.

"Food, as well, _fratele meu_ ," Vladimir added, "how they all miss these human things." Both laughed. I watched, silently, in interest at these two creatures. How friendly they acted together. A fondness and familiarity bred of time that only immortality could produce. At barely a year old, the thought of their age alone was daunting.

"How can you still find things to laugh at?" I asked. A silver brow was arched in response. Stefan, however, laughed again.

"Why do you assume we have nothing to laugh about?" Vladimir parlayed. A good question. This form of conversation was new to me. Never before had a stranger challenged me, and a heat lifted to my cheeks.

"Be kind, _fratele meu_ ," Stefan reprimanded, ancient knowing eyes lingering on my cheeks, the floral and fauna long forgotten, " _Suflețel_ , why do you ask this question?" his delicate tone eased me.

"I just thought, that being as, old, as you are, that there is no joke you haven't already heard a million times," I said quietly. Stefan chuckled, no mock in the sound.

"At our age," Vladimir started.

"We have discovered," Stefan added.

"The world has endless surprises," Vladimir finished. They both smiled at each other, a thousand memories flickering between their eyes. My curiosity was not nearly sated, and it seemed wouldn't be that night.

"But," Stefan said, "you did not come to ask about our humors, _suflețel_." He leaned against one of the large pots across the path, facing the bench. They both waited as I struggled for words. My heart began to race as fear spiked my system. How did I even begin to broach what Carlisle revealed to me.

"This is about what you learned of us, _Da_?" Vladimir asked. They knew. Of course they did, since Carlisle and I hadn't been discreet. Until that moment, discretion hadn't seemed important. The racing of my heart was my answer. Stefan hmm'd.

"I will be the first to say, yes, it is true," Stefan said, "the things that Carlisle said. The horrible things we did, the terrible ways we treated our own, all very true."

"Oh," was all I could say, eyes on my hands as they played with the skirt of my nightgown. I was unsure how to continue. What was appropriate to do was lost on me, as I hadn't experienced an interaction like that before. How was I to take this new information? Did I condemn them like the rest of the vampire guests? Was the admittance of these sickening truths meant to warn me? If so, why would they be allowed to stay?

How were such damning truths supposed to be dealt with? I did not know, so I sat and twirled my thumbs. Silence reigned for a few long minutes. Stefan shifted his stance, the movement causing his clothing to rustle. Movements, I began to see as always intentional. Vladimir shifted, echoing.

"We did not tell you," said Vladimir. I looked up at him. "Why Caius hates the Children of the Moon." A different subject. A new conversation. My hands stopped dancing with my skirts.

"It was two millennia ago when it happened, the first uprising," Stefan began. The two went on to tell me about the gathering of the werewolves. Even though, during the full moon, they were crazed and dangerous, they did not harm each other unless provoked. After those long nights, they would arise to find others like them. They banned together, these afflicted, and found a way of life that finally fit them.

"They didn't fear harming their families, their friends, because under the moon no beast would hurt another," Stefan said, smiling.

"They had found peace with their 'affliction'," Vladimir also smiled.

It wasn't long, though, before some started to reach for power. With the Romanians out of the way, the clear targets were the rulers of the vampire world. They sought out one of the kings, alone, as they were smart enough to avoid attacking all three. During a blood moon, the group attacked Caius and his guard as they were traveling across Germany.

"They nearly killed him," Vladimir said with passion, "when the sun's first rays peered over the horizon, returning them to human form."

Caius has sought out and killed every werewolf he and his guard could find. Every few centuries, a few will pop up here or there, only to be destroyed days after discovery.

After their tale, Stefan walked me up to my room. At the door he bid me goodnight with a bow, and disappeared. I slipped under the sheets and curled up next to my sister. Not a moment later her hand found mine.

 _You're not as sneaky as you think you are_. I smiled as we fell into a dream about meadows and orange flowers.


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas Eve found Renesmee and I sitting in the living room, watching a disgruntled Jacob tending a fire in the never once before used hearth. Most of the guests were out for a 'night on the town'. Locals might have been off limits, but Seattle was rearing with tourists, in-laws, and the like. Father was extremely bothered by it all, but the others needed to feed. Mother dragged him out, along with Rose, Emmet, and the remaining Denali members, for some hunting out in the mountains. Carlisle and Esme would hunt tomorrow, as for the last day Carlisle had been locked within his study.

Esme was in the kitchen, preparing a steak dinner for the three of us. 'A proper holiday meal', she said. She'd left to the kitchen before seeing Renesmee's sudden change in mood. Jacob dropped before her, hand outstretched. She took it, and realization filled his eyes.

Christmas, we'd learned, was a human holiday celebrated at the peak of winter. Renesmee was fascinated with it when we'd first learned about traditions and customs. Alice had gone on and on about the decorations, festivities, and parties she'd been preparing for us. It had Renesmee enchanted, and myself by mere exposer.

So, when the time of year came around for 'fairy lights the like you've never seen before', Renesmee had wilted at the first mention of the holiday. There were no lights to be hung. No tree to be found, nor presents to prepare. There was no time. And there was no Alice.

"Well, I might not be your crazy Aunt, but," he lifted Renesmee up in one arm and I in the other, "she's," he dropped us onto the couch, "not me. And I find you don't need decorations, trees, or guys in red suits to have Christmas." He turned away and started heading towards the door, "I'll be right back."

Moments later Jacob returned, five logs in his arms.

"A fire?" I asked, when he deposited them in the hearth.

"I would make you hot cocoa, but I'm not exactly the best chef," he said, grabbing a match from the ledge. Soon enough, there was a warm glow to the room, and sounds of crackling timber filled the air. When he turned, he held something in his hand.

"The Quileute don't celebrate Christmas, but that doesn't mean we Black's aren't fond of other traditions." Jacob crouched before the two of us, surrounded by a halo of warm light. "I was going to wait until tomorrow to give you guys these, but, well," he smiled warmly at Renesmee. From his large warm hand he placed something in our little cold ones.

" _Píxt'adax_ ," Renesmee brought the little carving to her face, rotating it before her inquisitive eyes, "the Eagle. They carry the power of intuition and creativeness, and have the powers of healing and spirit." It was made out of a stone of marbled pinks, browns, greys, and whites. The eye was turquoise. "Guardian of the sky."

" _Báyaḳ_ ," a little carving dropped in my palm, "the Raven. Clever, representing of magic and transformation." The stone was pitch black, so much so it was hard to see the lines and details in the carving. It also had a turquoise eye, but then had a red bead placed within the open beak, "The Raven helps guide us through the darkest of times."

"Thank you," I whispered, my fingers sliding over the smooth polished wings, feeling out the grooves I couldn't see.

. . .

Dinner was a strange event. Jacob and Renesmee's steaks couldn't have been more polar opposites of each other. The raw uncooked bloody piece of meat my twin requested next to the very very well done piece Jacob had demanded was comical. I sat at the far end of the dining table, enjoying my medium rare piece.

"For someone who doesn't like animal, you sure do enjoy it," Jacob commented as I devoured my portion.

" _Cooked_ , Jake, _cooked_ ," I said, pointedly looking at my counter part, cheeks smeared with fat and blood. He glanced down at her himself, eyes turned wary. "So, Esme, what's grandpa vampire got going that's had him locked up for two days?" The sudden change of subject wasn't lost on me, as it was my sister who was happily licking her fingers clean. I grimaced, remembering a limp fawn and pink fluid spilling across the ground.

"Carlisle has been looking into old tomes he… collected, during his time at Voltaire," she said, slipping into the seat beside me. A hand found its way to my shoulder. A comforting touch. I looked up into kind knowing eyes.

"Collected?" Jacob asked. Esme gave him a pointed look. He put his hands up in serenader and continued eating.

"What kind of tomes?" I asked. Esme gave the back of my neck a few good rubs as she thought, eyes flicking over unseen things. Eventually her hand fell away, and her eyes returned to me.

"Documents, of past trials, discoveries, anything that could give us a clue as to how things might play out," she said, "There are times that the Volturi didn't answer to calls, ones involving immortal children. They let the others handle it. It was only in cases where the situations got out of hand that they sent members of the guard out."

"But Alice," I hesitated when Esme cringed, "said that they are all coming. The kings with their entire guard. Why?"

"There is a reason behind everything the Volturi do, Elizabeth," said Carlisle, who was in the doorway. Esme stood up instantly, eyes questioning. He shook his head, and Esme sighed. Renesmee flew into his arms, hands upon his face sending comforting thoughts as she tends to do when anyone is discouraged. He smiled softly at my sister, but his eyes did not match the sentiment. That changed, though, when he took a hefty sniff.

"You, need a bath," Carlisle laughed, pulling her sticky hands away. Her chime like giggle tinkled in the air. A bloody stamp of Renesmee's hand was left behind as Esme took her upstairs. Once the pair was out, Carlisle's demeanor changed. If he seemed discouraged before, he was purely crestfallen now. Jacob, sensing this, pulled a chair out for him, which he gladly fell into.

"I've asked Eleazar to retrieve some of his journals. He was there first hand for many of these councils, and will be able to tell me more than any of my second hand accounts," Carlisle said, rubbing his temples with his forefingers.

"You're not confident," Jacob pointed out. Carlisle shook his head, and sagged his shoulders with a heavy sigh.

"Eleazar's journals?" I asked. Carlisle glanced up at me, brow drawn down.

"Eleazar had been part of the Volturi for many years before I joined the council in eighteen forty. It wasn't long after I left that Eleazar split ways with the kings himself. I think he saw through me a way of living he hadn't thought possible, but he's never told me as much. Like myself, Eleazar wrote down events and journaled his experiences to keep track of his life."

"So, Eleazar was on the council with you?" I asked.

"No, he was part of the guard." Carlisle said, "A tiered system. The council was used for advice, commune, but the guard are the Volturi's hands. They answer directly to the kings. Each level of the guard has different responsibilities, and different authorities over the others. A complicated system. Eleazar might tell you about it, one day, if you ask it of him." If there was even a 'one day' to speak of. As if sensing my thoughts, he gave me a look. I nodded in acceptance. No more questions tonight.

Jacob opened his mouth, to say or ask a question I don't know, when a howl broke through the quiet of the night. He cursed under his breath, tousled the hair atop my head, and ran out the door. The next moment, Carlisle picking up my empty plate. He flitted out of the room, the sound of the faucet turning on the only inclination of where he'd gone. I sighed.

Soon enough I made my way to the garden. Esme found me later. She showed me how to care for plants during the colder season. For the rest of the evening I was kept busy clearing debris, cutting back blackened stems and foliage, and clearing the annual areas that would be tilled at the end of the season, and replanted from the seeds I'd helped Esme gather when she'd first shown me the garden. That had been two months prior. My hands, which held a dozen broken and dead stems each, could barely hold a leaf then.

Of the plants not dead, or 'sleeping', I enjoyed the witch hazel the most. It's sunset colored sprouts had crinkled paper mache like petals hung in the air just out of my fingers reach.

"You are closer today than you were yesterday," Renesmee said from behind me. I slowly dropped my arm, and felt my hand taken in by another. _Maybe tomorrow you will be able to pluck one_ , she thought. My brows scrunched together. I didn't like that idea.

"No," I said. Surprise and confusion tickled the back of my mind.

 _You do not like the flowers?_

"No, I do."

 _But you won't take one when you can?_

"I won't take one because I like them," I said. The confusion stayed, but curiosity came behind it. She didn't understand. If it was pretty, and I liked it, why not take it with me where I could keep looking at it? A sadness filled my mind.

The image of the bud closest to us came up behind the lids of my eyes. The bud fell, and as is drifted to the ground, began to shrivel and loose its color until it was an ugly brown. Renesmee pulled her hand from mine.

"What happened?" I asked. Renesmee shook her head, as if clearing it of something, and returned her hand to mine. _I think, you don't need to pluck the flower to enjoy it_ , she thought. We stayed out to enjoy the witch hazel a bit longer. When Jacob returned, a few pack members behind him, Renesmee gave her goodbyes before running back to the house. Others were returning from their hunting as well, if the sudden collective of voices from within the house was anything to go by.

I turned back eventually, after enjoying the silence outside until so many returned that the noise was no longer ignorable. With a wistful glance I left my plants behind. Most of the house had gathered in the dining room, going over what Carlisle had discovered, as well as whatever it was the pack had come to say. I wondered onto the porch, where only two occupants resided.

"Here to enjoy the night, _Suflețel_?" Stephan asked. Neither of them turned, so I felt compelled to move forward. I joined the two at the railing, which was at least a foot taller than me.

"I believe, _fratele meu_ , she enjoyed what she could," Vladimir said, eyes glancing down at me. His eyes were brighter than before, like mine after Carlisle slipped me a blood bag when the headaches became to much. I attempted a smile, looking out where only a tint of orange could be made out within the brush below. "No need for falsities, _Suflețel_. We know," he said while glancing back behind him. I tensed for a moment, and forced my face to relax into a true frown. Vladimir 'hmmd' in acceptance. Voices rose from within. Jacob was trying to convince Father to let all of the pack be involved. Again. My frown deepened.

"Why bring them at all?" A voice broke above the others. His accent, I couldn't recognize, but it was unmistakable. Amun, the leader of the olive skinned group who'd arrived along with Carlisle upon his return. He was one of the few who'd refused to see Renesmee's thoughts. "You know how Caius will respond to them-"

"And how will he respond? Let the rest of us know," someone else, female, cut in. Irish possibly?

"Badly," Amun said. A grown of aggravation followed. "They are similar to the Children of the Moon-"

"But we aren't!" Jacob cried.

"Do not interrupt me, boy." Amun's voice grew dark. Jacob's smell rushed through the air, potent. The air grew tense. I could hear Mother trying to hush him. The smell lessened. When all seemed 'calm', Amun continued, "Moon Children, or not, you are wolves. He will react the same."

"But Aro already knows about them, through Edward and A-," Mother's voice cut off awkwardly. "He knows." She stated.

"But most who came here did not, young Bella," A voice said, which piqued my interests. Eleazar was back, and I assumed, he came with his notes. "The Volturi have not made these shapeshifter kind known. Are you sure Aro spoke his knowledge to those around him? I'm sure he did not confront you or your family about them, when given the chance." Mummers followed this.

"You believe he will play ignorant," Carlisle said. His voice sounded coarse. Tired. "That's a hefty assumption, my friend."

"And what do we have, but assumptions, Carlisle?" Amun's voice grew angered, loud. "I know, from experience, that he can get away with it, and will continue to do so unless we assume such, and find a way to work with it," was all Amun said.

"Ah, Amun," breathed Vladimir softly, pulling my attention from the continued conversation in the house, "he has plans of his own."

"Vladimir?" I questioned, hoping he would elaborate. He did not. "Do you mean, like you?"

"Like me?" Vladimir volleyed, humor in his voice. My cheeks grew heated, unsure what was funny. "No, _Suflețel_ , like many here." Movement behind him caught my eye.

Stefan lift's his finger, just reaching beyond the shadow of the roof. It's tip sparkled in the moonlight, exaggerating the gesture. I followed the line of the bright digit to a figure in the trees. Curled up on a branch, tucked against the trunk, Alistair was violently sketching into a leather bound book. After a few moments he brought the pencil between his fingers and whittled the end between his nails, sharpening it, and began to sketch anew.

From the distance I could still make out the graphite covering the pads of his fingers, and smeared on his palms. When his body jerked with a wide motion, his bangs would swing forward and reveal dark prints on his stubbly cheek.

"Such feeling," drawled Vladimir, turning his head to his brother.

"For one they think more stone than even us," Stefan finished, turning his head also. The two chuckled. I rolled my eyes at their antics, but didn't dismiss what they were saying. It was true that most gathered at the house weren't very fond of the estranged nomad. Carlisle's friend, Alistair, was an enigma.

From time to time Renesmee or I would notice him watching from the tree line as the others trained in the glade. By the time my sister or I would turn back after telling the other, he would disappear.

When Alistair first appeared he had refused to even step close to Renesmee. He'd glared at her little outreached hand as if it were poisonous, told Carlisle he would stay, and retreated to somewhere on the property.

His quick dismissal had wounded Renesmee. It was in that that he'd quickly earned our parents ire, though not ours. Renesmee was indifferent about the strange man, and I'd been mildly curious.

"And here I thought he sat in the attic mumbling to himself in a dark corner all day," I commented. Vladimir snorted.

" _Te duce cu presul_ ," he muttered. I glanced at Stefan.

"There is more to this one than eyes see, _Suflețel_ ," Stefan said, looking once again towards the tree line. I turned. The branch was empty.


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas morning, Renesmee and I awoke to find both our parents gone. Rosalie, while braiding my hair next to Esme brushing my sister's, told us that they'd gone to Charlie's house. Renesmee and I shared a glance. It was the second time anyone had ever mentioned our grandfather, the first being an accident. Jacob had told Father that 'Charlie deserves to know his granddaughters'. Father had tried shutting down Renesmee and I's questions, but we were determined. It wasn't until Mother had broken into venomous tears, we officially stopped. Jacob, also, hadn't brought the subject up again.

"Why can't we see him?" Renesmee was the one to ask. Esme's brush strokes stilled, and a few plaits slipped through Rosalie's fingers as the two looked at each other. As the silence lengthened, and my hair loosened completely, Renesmee's face turned crestfallen. I breathed in slowly, readying what little persuasion skills my three month old self had.

"You don't have to tell us anything about him, just why," I tried. Rosalie cursed under her breath when she turned towards me, quickly trying, and failing, to salvage what was left of the braid. Esme did a few quickly strokes of the brush before setting it down on the table.

"He isn't a bad man, is he?" Renesmee asked.

"No, no. Charlie is everything but," Esme said, a soft smile on her lips. "But… it's very complicated."

"They aren't here, Esme." Rosalie said. Esme gave Rosalie a sharp look. She continued to braid my hair. "You know my stance on the subject. I believe they should know their grandfather, but," she injected before Esme could say when she opened her mouth, "I agree, it's not my decision. I'll respect their wishes. Though, the girls do deserve to know why." It was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room that of my hair slipping between and around Rosalie's deft fingers.

"According to the Volturi, vampire law-," Esme started, and paused when I hissed. Rosalie's hands had tightened as the mention of the vampires. My hair quickly loosened followed by a hushed 'sorry'. "Vampire law states, that no human is to know about the existence of vampires. Now, your Mother, loves your grandfather Charlie, very much… Usually, in the instance when one is transformed into a vampire, they cut themselves off from any humans they once had any sort of contact with."

"Even family?" Renesmee asked, voice wobbly.

"Even family." Esme said. A tear slipped from my sisters eye.

"You said usually," I said. Esme looked to me, something in her eye. Rosalie snorted, the sound of it mocking.

"Your mother is far from usual," she said.

"Rosalie." Chastised Esme. Rosalie said nothing, and eventually, Esme continued, "Bella decided to stay in contact with your grandfather. We're able to hide her supernatural characteristics, just as Carlisle does when he goes to work at the hospital, but,"

"We grow to fast," I said, cutting her off. Esme's eyes grew sad. Rosalie hid behind her golden locks, but her mouth, pinched, could still be scene.

"Yes," Esme eventually said.

"What would happen if he knew about us?" asked Renesmee. I looked down at my fingers.

"Nothing good, Renesmee," was all Rosalie said, trying to hide the grueling truth I already knew. But Renesmee's gasp of horrible realization proved Rosalie's plans foiled.

"Then why not change him?" she said, desperately, turning around in her chair. I frowned, suddenly irritated by the question for some reason. It was an honest question, one I'd thought myself.

"Renesmee!" Rosalie exclaimed, anger filling her tone. My irritation fled me, as my sister and I jumped in shock.

"No, Rosalie, she didn't mean-" Esme tried, but she continued on.

"I never want to hear you ask such a selfish question ever again, do you understand me?!" She was now standing before my sister, who quaked in her chair, wide eyes glowing. "Do you understand me!?" She shouted. Large hands gripped her shoulders and Emmett's voice tried quieting my aunt. Renesmee quietly said 'sorry' a few times, but that only managed to enrage Rosalie, who was now hissing in furry. Esme had my sister, who was now in confused fearful tears, on her hip and in her arms instantly. Members of the Denali clan flew into the room quickly, standing at the ready, as if expecting a fight.

"Rosalie, that's enough!" Carlisle shouted, standing before Esme and my sister. Rosalie's hissing came to a stop. Realization slowly filled her eyes, and her body started to tremble, but no longer in rage.

"Renesmee, I-"

"Emmett, take her outside, please," Carlisle cut her off. Emmett nodded, and slowly pulled our aunt away, through the crowd of gathered questioning vampires. With one look, Carlisle had them out of the room and scattering about the house. The only one who stayed was Jacob, who rushed to Renesmee's side.

"Elizabeth," Carlisle crouched down before me, voice soft, "are you alright?"

"I-," the shakiness of my voice surprised me. Carlisle took pity, gathering me in his arms and lifting me up. I looked over his shoulder at my sister, who's tear streaked face turned towards me. Asking about Charlie had been a mistake.

. . .

Eventually Renesmee was calmed down. Jacob suggested taking her out for a ride, suggesting she should be out when our parents returned. Carlisle had quickly agreed, and the two instantly left the house. I watched as Jacob's large tail slipped between the trees, and stayed put before the window long after. My eyes scanned over the garden. Esme was flitting between the brush, clearing out more dead leaves and branches. It was getting colder each day, the air drying up.

She soon left, following the others who were headed towards the field. The ground had been evened out, and grass pressed into nonexistence, with the amount of training that happened each day. There were more wolves than usual. It seemed Jacob had gotten what he wanted, though the big wolf himself was nowhere to be scene. The fact that they were heading out meant Father must have returned. It was quiet in the house, though. Eventually, someone came up to me, steps loud enough to announce themselves.

"Is Aunty ok?" I asked, looking up at Mother. Her big soft eyes were sad, sunken in. She was tired, like everyone was lately. No amount of mountain lion would change that. She pulled over a large bean bag, something Jacob had gotten for us awhile ago, and plopped down in it, opening her arms. I walked over and crawled into her lap.

"She's alright," she said into my hair, voice matching her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?" And so I did. Mother flinched a few times at the mention of Charlie, but she didn't stop me. When I was finished, a low hum was vibrating through mothers chest. It was a calming sound, like a per the wild cats would make when they didn't know we were watching.

"I see," she was hesitating, thinking about what she was going to say. I waited patiently. "Your aunt should not have shouted at Renesmee the way she did, there is no excuse for that, but," again, the hesitation. I patted the hand laying on the makeshift arm rest. She turned her cool palm upwards to capture my little hand. "Turning- Vampirism, is a soft subject for Rosalie," I gave her a questioning look, "No, the reason why, is her story to tell, but know that if given the option, she wouldn't have become one. Now, that doesn't mean she doesn't love you two, or our family, but there is reason behind your Aunty's views. We don't have to like them, but she is allowed her opinion."

Mother told me that Rosalie was sorry, and it was up to me if I accepted that apology or not. It was my forgiveness to give. I said that I already forgave her. Mother told me to be patient, then, with Renesmee.

"Just like you, she has a right to forgive, or not to forgive. Remember that, Elizabeth." Soon enough, Mother was called from the field. She kissed my forehead and was off. I went to go find Rosalie, to tell her I forgave her, but Emmett told me she was out getting things for Carlisle. I went to go pick at something from the study, but the door was locked. That left what little my Father had on his bookshelf to look through. The Princess Bride again, it would seem. But I didn't want to read. Discouraged, and bored, I thought about heading out to the field, but without Renesmee at my side I didn't really feel like it. It was then, I had an idea.

Book in hand, I flitted over to the second set of stairs in the house. Stairs that were more latter than stairs, really, but stairs none the less. Determined, I pushed the attic door up and out and made my way into the barren, dusty, pleasantly occupied space. Ignoring the eyes on me, I set myself up against a slightly less dusty wall, with plenty of light from the one window, and opened my choice of reading up to whatever page it chose.

The scratching of graphite on paper stopped. Alistair set his notebook to his side, and his eyes weighed heavily on me. I did not look up from my book. I followed the words on the page, but didn't take them in. It didn't matter, since I'd read the book five times already.

"What are you doing?" Alistair's voice was rough, like gravel grinding together.

"I'm reading," I stated, turning to the next page. I turned two more before he spoke again.

"Why here, though?" he inquired.

"Renesmee's out with Jacob, and I'm bored. I decided a change of scenery would be nice, and I haven't been to the attic before," I said. I glanced up to find him staring at the floor before my feet with furrowed brows. "Renesmee's my sister. You know, the one who can share her thoughts." His nose wrinkled in distaste.

"And you?" he asked, warily.

"I'm like Mother," I didn't feel the need to tell him about Eleazar's vague description. He nodded, eyes having never left the spot on the floor. The scrunch slowly left his face. I returned to reading. The scratching of graphite on paper didn't start again, but Alistair remained. Soon the sound of something pressing through the trees echoed outside. I glanced out the window to see a smiling Renesmee on the back of a very tired wolf Jacob. Her eyes scanned the clearing, and knowing what she was looking for I waved. Her eyes snapped up towards me and she beckoned with her arm. I set down my book, pages open, and flitted downstairs.

When I returned the next day, my book was still there, closed. A piece of torn parchment marking the last read page.


End file.
